


and don't be surprised if i love you

by formosus_iniquis



Category: American Vandal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Roommates, credit for that in the author note, ive borrowed some headcanons ive seen that ive really liked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 21:39:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16605926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/formosus_iniquis/pseuds/formosus_iniquis
Summary: Learning Peter could cook was maybe only the third most surprising thing that Sam had learned since living with him while they filmed for Season 2.Number two was also food related but Peter's stress baking really fell in a category all it's own.But number one was a real doozy. It only took two weeks of living in the Lyman's sick as hell guest house for him to realize he was maybe falling in love with his best friend.





	and don't be surprised if i love you

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [phonecallfromgod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phonecallfromgod/pseuds/phonecallfromgod) for introducing the idea of Hot Guy Ashley Hanson because I love it more than I can say and I hope you don't mind that I borrowed it here

Learning Peter could cook was maybe only the third most surprising thing that Sam had learned since living with him while they filmed for Season 2.

Number two was also food related but Peter's stress baking really fell in a category all it's own. Mostly because Sam felt like a shitty investigator for not cracking that case on his own. But Ms. Maldonado was a considerate and amazing person, it didn't seem that weird that she always had baked goods to spare right around every major test or deadline that Peter and Sam had.

He knew better now, obviously. Just like he also knew that the brownies that Peter made tasted even better when they were still warm than they did the next morning at 8 when Peter lied and said his mom made extras.

But number one was a real doozy. It only took two weeks of living in the Lyman's sick as hell guest house for him to realize he was maybe falling in love with his best friend.

As far as revelations go that one probably went up there with realizing that the Ashley Hanson Peter was in love with from his trig class was a dude; or his big bi crisis after watching the Winter Soldier.

Which meant it ranked high enough on the list of crises to be something Sam would probably have to  _ deal _ with. Eventually…

Because when he went into this Sam really didn't expect to like it, blame Gabi for that one. Gabi and all of her complaints about her roommate who she'd been friends with for like five years before they moved in together. Sam wasn't really an anxious person by nature, he was really more of a speak first, realize that you probably shouldn't out your best friend on camera or accuse a teacher that you were currently taking of lying about having her tires slashed later kind of person. But Gabi talking about how she was planning on moving out the next semester because she hadn't gotten more than four hours of sleep in a month and her two choices were move or murder, well it had him a little freaked. Like couldn't stop thinking about it on the entire 20 hour drive from home all the way up to Bellevue.

But now he's like there and fucking whoops he did the exact opposite.

Which really wasn't his fault. Like almost every fight they've had in the last like four years, Sam will go to his actual grave saying that it's Peter's fault. Sam went into things with a plan to not hate his best friend at the end of their indefinite shooting schedule. He did not have a plan for Peter actually being a super considerate roommate who fed him like every night and kept him from freezing to death in Washington in the middle of winter when they went to bed.

Fucked. Sam was Fucked with a capital F.

The only real relief was that at least while they were investigating Peter probably wouldn't have a clue. The fact that Sam found that single minded obliviousness kind of charming really just cemented how screwed Sam really was.

Sam was a little in awe of his own timing. Falling in love with your best friend was normal? Maybe? Sam might be a little biased there with his crush on Gabi, even if it only lasted for like a week and was way over by the time Peter called him out on it.

But what else could he call it when he'd spent ten of the last fifteen minutes he'd been laying on the table just staring at Peter. Well, staring and thinking. The kind of meandering train of thought that was hard to derail. Like how nice Peter looked with the light behind him, how it shined in his hair and that squint he got when he moved his head and the glare reflected off his glasses into his eyes. Sam liked Peter's glasses, they made him think about how they watched She's All That on Saturday 'cause Peter was easy to trick into watching whatever cheesy movie Sam wanted to watch. They had started sitting closer together than they usually do at the Maldonado house, but that's just because it's so much colder here and they couldn't get the fancy heater in the guest house to work right. So Sam was close to Peter, like  _ close _ close and he was watching Freddy Prinze Jr. take Laney's glasses off and like all of a sudden she's hot which was like such bullshit because she was pretty before just weird. And then he's thinking of Peter again and how he even looked up at Peter then and Peter was doing that thing where he pretended he wasn’t paying attention to the movie because it's so mainstream but he's definitely paying attention 'cause that's the same tweet he'd been looking at for the last ten minutes and he only follows like 50 people anyway his feed was not that interesting.

Peter looked good in his glasses. Peter looked good in general. Sam had spent a lot of time looking at Peter in profile over the last couple years and Peter's jawline was like ridiculous. Like  _ ridiculous _ . Sam really wasn't sure why, other than Peter being socially awkward and putting like half the school on blast in a viral documentary that then got picked up by one of the largest streaming platforms in the country, Peter hadn't had half the school trying to knock his door down. Prom was like in three months. And they've had like two major social events since they became like semi-famous.

And Sam was like half staring at Peter and Peter was glaring at his phone like that's going to make their shit criminal respond faster. That's what stops Sam's barreling train of thought. It came to a dead stop so that Sam could really notice when he thought Peter's concentration face was actually kind of cute.

A realization he would have preferred to have literally any time other than when he's mic'd and had a camera pointed at him.

But that's why he's the actor and Peter was the documentarian. He'd learned how to push through the urge to freak the fuck out, freak outs ruin scenes and Sam was the most professional.

Freak outs ruin friendships, even when neither one of you was exactly straight.

Then Peter jumped like he could read Sam's mind and they had a response from their guy and the investigation was back on the road.

It probably said something about Sam that he could watch Peter dig through actual shit and still have a thing for him. It probably said even more that he let Peter do it and didn't offer to help, but Sam was that gay (bi) and he wasn't about to risk getting shit on his shoes or any other part of him.

The whole thing had Peter, understandably, stressed which meant they were in the kitchen going over the case again. The doc probably wouldn't show it, because Peter always sent Ming and his camera away when he went to the kitchen, but most of their case talk happened in there and not in front of Sam's carefully stringed boards.

Which was fine, Sam's string would get plenty of screen time; and he kind of liked being the only person to see Peter like this. Wearing only one layer so he's only getting his t-shirt dirty if something spills, hair mussed because he just can’t stop touching it and running his hands through it and pulling at it, pacing around the kitchen in an arc around Sam ranting --- Peter would call it theorizing --- and only stopping to stand in front of Sam to say, "Taste this."

He was leaning across the counter toward Sam, there was so much space between them --- one foot apart cause they're both gay --- but Sam's wonderful new found emotions made it feel wonderfully claustrophobic. He could count Peter's eyelashes if he wanted to --- he's not sure why he'd want to but he doesn't need to see all of Peter's Instagram comments to know that they're nice, Peters eyes were nice --- and his eyes were bright and maybe a little manic and they were locked in on Sam, waiting. Waiting for Sam's opinion about whatever it was on this spoon that he's stuck right in Sam's face.

The image isn't lost on Sam, okay. He's watched movies, he's watched the soft core porn disguised as artistic foreign indie films that Peter always seems to find, and unlike Peter he's watched real porn. He got it. But knowing how things looked and knowing that's not what this was supposed to mean didn't stop his face from getting so hot and Sam knows he was way too white to not be blushing.

He's really counting on Peter's obliviousness right now.

But what else could he do but, ugh, stick it in his mouth. And, like everything Peter had made since they'd been living together it's like weirdly amazing.

"Oh fuck, dude, this is good what is this?"

Peter was still so close, close enough that Sam could see the pleased excitement that Sam liked something he made. The tip of his nose and the top of his cheeks pinked and Peter, wasn't blushing because of something Sam said, that's just not possible. This kitchen was hot, way too hot, Sam felt hot. Peter was saying something.

"I have to go." Sam said.

"What?"

"Math. I forgot, I had a thing and I said I would send it in today because math is a class I still have to take and you don't."

"Okay… Sam, are you-"

"I'll be right back!"

Sam couldn't have gotten out of there any faster if he were on fire. He was freaking out, he wasn't going to freak out but he's freaking out. How did he expect to live with Peter, to like Peter and not fuck this up somehow. Peter who probably thought Sam was having some kind of break down. He wouldn't be wrong, but hopefully he didn't guess that the very real breakdown Sam was currently having was about him and his stupid nice looking face and his stupid being a considerate person who made him dinner every night and even helped Sam with the dishes even though Sam told him he would do them because it's only fair dude and Sam liked to keep things pretty orderly anyway-- He's spiraling.

Sam actually did have math homework he's supposed to be doing, because somehow being a Netflix sponsored documentarian did not get you out of your Math or English graduation requirements, but he wasn’t really in the right mindset to be trying to figure out his College Algebra right now.

He needed help. And well there's really only one person he could even begin to talk to about this sort of thing. He called Gabi.

"Hey, Sam, what's up I was just about to call you-"

"I'm in love with Peter." Sam blurted out in a half formed rush, trying to keep his hysterical scream in his chest since he was in a room that shared a wall with the person he was talking about

"What?"

"We're living together for season 2 and I think I'm in love with him." Sam forced himself to slow down, to enunciate and give each word its moment like they were taught in drama. Gabi couldn't help him if she couldn't understand what he was saying.

She's quiet for so long Sam wondered if they got disconnected. But then he heard her take a deep breath and prepared for whatever wisdom she was about to bestow. "Oh my god, they were roommates."

"Gabi!"

"What do you want Sam, you call me shouting about how you're in love with your best friend and there are really only two ways I can respond to that: A Plus vine references or no-nonsense big sister facts."

"Let's go ahead and assume I don't want to hear you quote vine then."

"Well then no shit, Sam."

"God I wish there were no shit…"

"What?"

"Nothing, you were bullying me about my life choices, go ahead and keep doing that." Sam had sequestered himself in the one bedroom of the Lyman guest house, he slumped down in the corner farthest away from the wall it shared with the kitchen while he waited for Gabi to supply him with words of grown up, college sophomore wisdom.

"Sam, I say this as one useless bisexual to another,  _ obviously _ you have a thing for Peter; but it's fine."

"Is it fine, Gabrielle? Because right now it feels kinda life ruining, he's in the other room making dinner and I just fucking-"

She cut him off and Sam was glad he hadn't Facetimed her because he didn't need to hear and see her ‘I know you better than you think I do’ face. "I don't need to know what embarrassing thing you just did to know that it doesn't matter, Sam he's literally been in love with you for years."

"No."

"He found evidence for, VO'd, and edited a six minute diatribe about how a crush he thought you had was concerning; and it wasn't even that good."

Now that struck a chord, he just didn't expect it to be in the key of outrage. "Hey!"

"Don't get all white knight about it, it was good but it wasn't good. Sam I can think of a million different, more convincing reasons you could have been the one who drew the dicks without even trying."

"Name one."

"You're a class clown with poor impulse control and a bad alibi; and I know the drama department has some old, cheap ass spray paint it uses for making sets. Including a familiar looking drippy, splattery red can that they used for Alice in Wonderland a few years back."

"I didn't call you to get read Gabi, I need help! This is serious."

"Yeah, seriously not my problem. Just talk to him."

"Gabi." He was whining now. He was whining and curled up in the corner of his room, Sam was living every cliche from every teenage romcom.

"Fine, you want some real advice? Let's look at the real lesson of American Vandal season 1-"

"Now streaming on Netflix."

"Shut up, if you want my advice, listen. Nobody exists without bias. You can try, but the closer you are to something or someone the harder it is to see and avoid those biases. They will color the way you see the world or interpret evidence and motivation for a dick based spray paint crime. Sam, he let you semi-out him to the entire world and he still talks to you. He called your crush concerning. He's biased. About  _ you _ , he likes you."

"He was supposed to cut that out, you know I wouldn't-"

"That is so far from the point I was trying to make, Samuel, and you know it. Go. Use your words and put Peter out of his misery."

"Thanks, Gabi." Sam still wasn't sure if he felt better, but his crisis felt less all consuming, which was really all he could ask for.

"You're welcome, kiddo, good luck filming season two. Now go get that D."

"Gabi!" His voice echoed through the basically empty bedroom. There was no way Peter hadn't heard that.

"Love you, bye!" She hung up before Sam could yell at her anymore and calling back would just mean getting teased about how he accidentally fell for his best friend until Sam hung up and did something about it. Which probably meant he had to go do something about it. Ugh, crushes were the worst.

Sam didn't slink back into the kitchen because he wasn't his cat after she knocked something expensive and/or filled with water off of the counter but he wasn't exactly walking back in with the normal sort of confidence and swagger he would normally. And Peter noticed. Sam felt pinned in place by that Maldonado unimpressed stare™ and guilt started it's slow acid reflux crawl up his throat.

"Math?"

He tried to swallow that reflexive guilty nausea and answer, "Tried, you know I can't do that shit without you."

It was a lie, and wasn’t.

Peter knew, but he was pleased.

That smug little half-smile climbed up the side of his face even as he tried to hide it looking down at the floor. "Food's almost done. Help me with my thesis statement for my English essay and I'll show you how hyperbolas work again."

"Deal. But, dude, you'd think you'd actually like Lear with your hard on for justice."

They don't talk about it. Or, Sam didn't talk about it, Peter couldn't really talk about anything because he didn't know anything. It's just too easy to get swept back up in the investigation. Following leads, connecting dots, not revealing possible life changing revelations regardless of Gabi's confidence that everything would work in Sam's favor.

And really crush aside, it was just really nice living with Peter. The routine and the closeness. Sam liked being able to zone out on the couch while Peter moved around their place trying to get rid of his extra 'I've spent too much time talking to strangers, being extroverted and professional energy.' Cause while Peter burned his anxious energy Sam could scroll through his finsta --- he won’t call it a pinsta even if it was his professional, evidence collecting/stalking instagram, no matter how much more sense Peter thought it would make --- and add new evidence to their board. Or he could just text Peter memes. Or shout jokes that he found on twitter that he knew will make Peter groan even though they're hilarious.

He could talk to Peter, whenever he wanted. And that's a big fucking deal when it came to Peter 'notoriously bad responder' Maldonado. Whether it's stupid shit like did you see that Lucas wasn't kidding about majoring in weed to the serious stuff they don't talk about unless the lights are off.

"We're not like them right?" Sam asked. It's barely above a whisper and even though Peter was laying right beside him in the King sized bed that filled bedroom --- the same way he had every night since they realized they were too old to be sleeping on the floor --- Sam almost hoped Peter couldn't hear him.

"Like who?" Peter's response was just as slumber party soft even if there's no one to keep awake.

"DeMarcus and, uh, and Lou."

"Friends?" Peter's voice almost crossed over to his normal speaking voice, practically a shout in the late night quiet.

"Taking advantage of each other."

"What? Sam, no."

"I just, they both say their friends and then DeMarcus basically treats Lou like his personal assistant. Which Lou lets him do because, I don't know, DeMarcus is his meal ticket or whatever, his pass into whatever school he wants or whatever girl he wants to get with. And people see that! We have how many interviews with people saying that Lou is basically DeMarcus' butler or if you want to have any hope of getting near DeMarcus you better make Lou happy. Is that how-"

"Do you see us that way?" Peter rolled over on his side, even though Sam refused to look he could feel him staring, the weight of his stare so much heavier without his glasses to defuse it.

"No. I don't know. I mean, you're the face of this whole thing and I'm the one behind the camera. You're the one who's like doing all this and has this like vision, and I'm like-"

"I couldn't do this without you." Peter said. He says it like he delivers his voice over. It's fact, as far as Peter is concerned, but that still doesn't mean it's true.

"You could, Peter you're the best at this. You're editor, producer, creator, now you're even head of transpo. I'm not saying they're right about it or anything but you have to see it right, like."

"People don't see us that way!" Peter sat up, braced up on one arm so he was closer to Sam but leaning over him. "Sam, you're my co-everything. I- I- I just couldn't do this without you, okay." It was dark. It was late, too late to be having this conversation probably. The moon shined through the window lit up just enough of his face that Sam could see his serious expression, the furrow of his brow and the tight draw of his frown. The shadows caught the contour of his jaw and the moonlight the indignation in his eyes. Sam's breath caught in his throat, Peter was upset and it's a little beautiful.

Sam nodded. Nothing else felt appropriate. Peter was the one who had such a way with words, even if he wasn't one to use them. Sam was blunt and quick to be so. It's not right, he wished he had the words he wanted to say.

Peter laid back down. They had the room to keep oceans between them, or at least a no homo wall, but when Peter laid back down they're shoulder to shoulder. It's comforting.

The silence washed over them like the light through the window. Sam knew Peter wasn't asleep, his breathing still too shallow and missing that familiar half-snore, but it seemed wrong to break the quiet that surrounded them. It was nice, comfortable like the blanket their laying under.

"I'm sorry," Peter said.

"Sorry?" Without context Sam's brain was left to try to fill those gaps himself and right now the only thing that looked like it would fill the gap was an I don't feel the same way apology.

"For shushing you. For-" Peter sounded miserable for some reason. "For- If that's what made you question whether or not you were a full partner in this investigation or not. I couldn't do this without you, we wouldn't be here without you, and I definitely wouldn't have gotten this far if you weren't here, Sammy."

Sam could feel tears pricking at the back of his eyes and he was going to blame the use of the childhood nickname and the inescapable earnestness in Peter's voice. If he weren't already a little bit in love with him, Sam would be gone. In the dark with their whispered confessions and insecurities around them Sam thought about telling Peter now, but between one breath and the next chickened out.

"Don't worry about it, Pete. I know you didn't mean it."

Sam woke up with Peter's hand in his and no idea who initiated it. It was too early to let the anxiety that wanted to creep in about being caught holding hands take hold. The bed was warm and the soft snuffling of Peter's sleepy breathing was enough to pull Sam back under again, it's a Saturday and the investigation could wait a few more hours.

The fever pitch mania that came from closing in on their answer was consuming. The satisfaction of ends being tied, or strings being moved, in a way that finally made some real sense. And with the hyper focus on the case comes the complete elimination of real boundaries. They were so close to busting things wide open they didn't have time to worry about how close they were sitting or who had their arm around who --- half true, Sam was always aware of where he was in relation to Peter he just didn't have the time to freak out about it.

It was impossible to miss the looks Ming kept giving them when they were waiting outside of the 24 Stop waiting for Kevin to show. It wasn’t weird that he wa sitting next to Peter on the parking block, they could be here for hours. And it wasn’t weird that Peter put his head on Sam's shoulder while they were sitting there, he didn't get any sleep the night before 'cause he was too busy working himself up about why Kevin would block them on literally everything. (But he held Sam's hand all night, just like every night now since Peter woke up before him on that Saturday and noticed. They didn't talk about it.) Ming apparently missed the dirty look Sam gave him when he bet Peter he couldn't do the bottle flip.

Sam had the last laugh. He bought like eight hats, and a snow globe, to get them their big break but Peter only wanted to wear the one that Sam had claimed as his own.

Then things really got going. Peter wouldn't shut up about how Sam broke the whole case open for him, not that Sam minded that much when Peter kept looking at him with that flushed, bright eyed face every time he said it. Even if he did wonder if it was just so Sam wouldn't question his place in the investigation. Sam didn't question anything when Peter said it was just them driving Oregon to talk to not Brooke. The four hours went by a little too quickly with Peter's hand in his, even everything else was business as usual.

Business mostly as usual. Sam did get him to admit Peter actually liked High School Musical, well the second one at least. He'd mumbled something Sam hadn't quite been able to make out, but definitely sounded like having a thing for preps in hats.

Sam thought Peter already had his suspicions about who the real turd burglar was. Well he knew Peter had theories, they'd been working on the case for a little over a month which was a lot of time to talk and theorize.

"We probably should have seen this coming," Sam said, scrolling through the Turd Burglar account for maybe the millionth time.

"Blackmail?"

"No, well, yeah maybe. Look at their bio though, dude, between the poop emojis, a cat and a fish. Whoever this is guy is they've been rubbing everyone's noses in it this whole time."

"Gross."

Not-Brooke, or Abby as she probably preferred, broke their whole case open for real. Peter was beaming the entire drive back to the Lyman's, waving Sam's hand around with his as he talked. "Grayson! I can't, I mean what kind of planning must have gone into this?"

"Since he was expelled probably, months of planning to humiliate the school that ruined his life."

"We have to follow up with him, I mean, right? We have to get his side of all this."

"Pete, you're kidding right? We're talking multiple premeditated felonies, and you just want to go in and interview him again?"

"I just think we should give him a chance to talk about why he did it."

"Because he's fucking crazy! Peter, come on this isn't like Dylan. He isn't some easy going stoner whose gonna let you get in his face and accuse him of doing this and let you walk away after. I'm pretty sure covering people in shit counts as assault."

"It's not like I would go by myself."

Sam felt like he'd been riding a high of his own with the news they had gotten from Abby, but now that giddiness was being replaced by something a lot scarier. "Petey, please, let's just go home. We can film the big reveal with Chloe and then go tell the cops or something. There's a reason you didn't want to investigate a murder."

His grip on Peter's hand was vice tight but all Peter did was pull their linked hands closer to him. "Yeah, uh, yeah. Let's go back, it's getting late anyway."

Then the shit hit the fan.

Sam and Peter spent the rest of the week scrambling to get interviews with the people affected the most and putting the final pieces together to prove Kevin's innocence, whatever that was worth. With the end comes nights that Sam starts going to bed alone again as Peter dives into the editing he'd neglected. Trying to make sure they have everything they need before they leave, he said. Sam sensed there might be something else. Maybe that was just him not wanting to sleep by himself any sooner than he had to.

Their last night in the guest house was a Saturday, and even with Vandal in full swing Sam and Peter hadn't missed a Saturday movie night for anything less than plague like sickness or natural disaster. The fact that they really needed to be out of the Lyman house by 4 the next morning didn't meet either of those. It's Peter's turn to pick and Sam was really expecting something he's going to have to spend the night pretending to read or something that used the color red as a symbol for youthful impropriety or something, really literally anything but 13 Going on 30. A pleasant surprise, but not quite as pleasant as Peter's arm wrapping around Sam's shoulders and letting him lean even closer.

After a week of running Sam was exhausted and leaning against Peter's warmth in the dark with a good movie playing was almost enough to lull him to sleep. Until he felt a deep inhale from Peter that meant something big was about to come, he couldn't tell if it was a good or a bad thing though. Sam was dealing with Schrodinger's inhale.

"Do you think this was our fault?"

Sam didn't ever pretend he really knew where Peter was going to start when he had something on his mind. He had to work up to things like that. Which meant some days that he got to listen to a five minute dissection of the presentation of dreams in Inception before Peter worked his way to not knowing if he was doing the right thing with his life.

So he rolls with the punches. "I mean, if you mean that as a society we push girls to grow up faster and become more mature because we don't treat them as individual people and more like sexual objects or future laborers then…"

"No, I mean yeah probably, but I wasn't talking about the movie. Did we, or I, I guess you and Chloe wanted to go to the cops; am I the reason everyone's lives got ruined like that?"

Sam couldn't see Peter's face, and even though he wanted to, he wanted to look Peter in the eyes when he told him everything he needed to hear right now, Sam also knew that wasn't really what Peter needed right now. So he slipped in closer. His arms wrapped around Peter's middle in a tight hug, the two of them closer than they'd maybe ever been in their years of friendship. Sam could feel his heart racing, hoped that Peter couldn't feel it beating against his chest or hear the way Sam's voice was sure to wobble. "Of course it isn't! Peter, don't be stupid. Sorry, fuck, but Grayson would have done this no matter what. He was mad, you saw those videos he put up. This would have happened when he found out the cops were involved, hell he probably already had a planned dump date in case he got figured out. This didn't have anything to do with you, I mean other than letting Grayson think he had someone to play his stupid game with for a little while."

"But these people's lives were still ruined. DeMarcus is getting ripped on all those sport shows, Jenna is having even more trouble talking to people, and then Drew or Mr. Gesualdi."

"Petey, DeMarcus is like the best high school player in the nation, even with all this I bet he still gets in whatever his top pick school is. Jenna will land on her feet and so will Drew once he can get out of Bellevue. And seriously, dude, don't feel bad that some creepy teacher who was talking to a girl at least like twelve years younger than him got fired."

"Yeah?"

"Dude, yeah."

"That's the second teacher we've gotten fired on our show." Peter laughed. It was soft but Sam hoped that meant his mood was lifting.

"Kaz was a total dick though, and kind of a creep too. You know he asked me once if it was weird being into dudes."

Peter's hand tightened around Sam's shoulder, pushing him even closer to Peter's chest. "He said that to you?"

"Yeah like one of those days we went over to his creepy garage to get his take on getting fired. Actually, y'know, if we don't get a Season three we should start like to catch a predator but it's just for creepy teachers. I mean we're two for two right now."

"Do you think it's kinda weird that Mark Ruffalo only falls in love with her when she starts acting like a teenager?" Peter changed the subject.

"Oh no, you are not going to come for Ruffalo like that. It's because she's acting like his friend again!"

"His friend who's thirteen pretending to be a grownup."

"I think you'd forgive a lot of weird stuff if you were in love with your best friend and they started talking to you again."

The words slipped from Sam's mouth before he could overthink just what that sounded like. Which was just great, really, because it meant he could spend all the time that Peter didn't respond making up for all of that thinking he didn't do.

"Yeah, no, that's a good point." Peter said finally like Sam hadn't just witnessed their entire friendship flash before his eyes like he was dying. His hand fidgeted against Sam's shoulder for a second, it pushed a fresh wave of worry through Sam's chest. Peter's fidgeting was almost exclusively saved for discomfort and anxiety, Sam couldn't think of any cause for that other than him.

That same hand held him in place when Sam started to pull away. And being a teenager with a hopeless crush on the person he was leaning against, Sam didn't need to be told twice not to move. He let that hand hold him in place and slumped down against Peter's chest enough that he could still see the movie, the dialogue only a little drowned by the warm pulse of Peter's heart beat.

And the next thing he knew someone was yelling.

"Wake up, sleepy head!"

And Sam hadn't been so folded up since Gabi and his sisters dragged him to that yoga class. He had both of his legs folded up on the couch, half wrapped around Peter. Most of Sam was wrapped around of Peter, really. The wake up was a real bummer.

His head popped out of the blanket. "What the fuck?"

Ming was standing there, and he only looked a little surprised. Sam regretted making sure he had the code to the door. "Oh shit, sorry!" Sam had strong doubts about how sorry he actually was. "Peter told me to make sure you two got up."

Peter probably did, they were both bad about sleeping through alarms after movie night. "Why is this the vine I get to live out."

"Yeah, man, your life really sucks. Wake up Peter, you all are dropping me off at the airport."

"You could have knocked!"

"You could have spooned in a room with a door on it."

"It isn't-"

"I don't need to know, man, my flight leaves in an hour. Just get your lives together and let's get home."

"Sure thing, man."

Ming walked out muttering something. But Sam figured it was better for his own sanity if he didn't even try to figure it out. And hoped that Ming didn't go around telling anyone what he thought he saw.

But the real challenge was getting notorious heavy sleeper Peter up. Well, no, the challenge would really be for Sam, notorious useless bisexual, to accept the fact that he didn't get to have his moment and leave the warmth and safety of their blanket --- and the idealistic, domestic seclusion of Washington --- and also wake Peter up.

What a morning things were shaping out to be.

Sam slowly pulled his arms out from around Peter's waist, his left arm as asleep as Peter was and Sam wished he could still be.

But it was hard when sleep let him appreciate the way sleep smoothed that little furrow of anxiety Peter seemed to perpetually keep in his forehead. The soft shape of his mouth, just slightly open in a small oh.

But if he kept staring he would be crossing dangerously into those stalkery YA novels his sister Kayla used to read when she was in high school. He didn’t want to spend too long wondering if it was weird that Sam had noticed these things about his best friend.

"Hey, Pete, dude." Sam felt bad, hesitant to raise his voice above a loud whisper because Peter looked so relaxed while asleep. "Pete, you gotta get up. You told Ming we'd give him a ride."

The hand that Peter had slung around his shoulder last night had drifted while they slept, now as Sam tried to wake him up. Peters grip tightened where his hand rested low on Sam's hip. Peter's groan was quiet and sleep roughened, but he made no move to get up from the couch.

"Pete, come on man, we'll look like real dicks if we make him take an uber after he came over here so Chloe's dad could return the rental car.”

"Sammy," Peter whined, his sleep rough voice and the nickname sending twining shivers down Sam's spine. "C'mon, sleep."

"Pete, we gotta go or Ming is gonna come back and make bad vine references again."

Peter snuggled down into the couch like there's somewhere for him to go. He took a deep breath like he was preparing to sigh, but all that comes out is a happy huff. His head was almost on top of Sam's. "Five more minutes, babe please."

Sam's heart stuttered in his chest. He thought- Did Peter just- Even in his own head Sam wasn't sure if he could wrap his head around the possibility that Peter might have called him any kind of pet name.

"Pete, c'mon," Sam wanted to reciprocate the possible name Peter used, it might be the only time he really got the chance after all but the word sits heavy in his mouth. "If Ming misses his fight he's gonna be pissed, babe, we gotta go."

Peter finally cracked one eye open. "Do we have to?"

"Don't ask me, dude, you're the one that made the promise. At least we loaded up your mom car last night."

"Its sporty, and it's my mom's old car."

"That just proves my point, come on ba-" Once the seal was broken it was like Sam couldn't keep that stupid name in. He hadn't ever thought about calling Peter anything but his name but now... Now he was going to ruin his whole life by running his mouth without thinking.

"Bae?" Peter was smirking at him. Peter was smirking, Sam didn't think Peter knew how to do anything that smug with his face. Sam hated it except for the parts of him that really, really didn't.

Thankfully Peter had taken his glasses off before he let them both spend the night on the couch without pulling the bed out, and he probably couldn't see how badly Sam was blushing.

If Peter could smirk about it then Sam could double down. "Babe."

But Peter couldn't stay suave and forever, Sam was still surprised he'd managed to successfully pull off that smirk.  A smile spreads slow and sweet across his face like ice cream melting off the cone. "Pass me my glasses, let's go home."

The 20 hour drive home was somehow even more miserable on the way back than it was heading to Washington. Now instead of the quiet dread that he would somehow learn that he hated Peter and couldn't stand him, Sam was filled with a newer and even more fun quiet dread. That everything that was good about the last few weeks of living with Peter: the hand holding, the home made dinners, the whispered late night talks that were more intimate than any sleep over talks they'd ever had before that those were all flukes. Just a strange bi-product of the Washington air and the kind of loneliness that comes from being separated from everyone who really knows you and getting neck deep in the life ruining drama of someone else.

So fun, it was a fun time.

Peter didn't seem to notice. Or maybe it did, for all Sam knew Peter --- and after like forever of being friends with Peter, Sam thought he had a pretty good handle on it --- he still managed to surprise him. He hadn't held Sam's hand while they drove Ming to his flight, but the car door had barely closed before Peter had taken hold of it over the gear shift. And Sam only almost choked on his own tongue once when he was singing along with Indie/Pop road trip playlist and he felt Peter's thumb stroke the side of his hand --- it might not have even been on purpose anyway, Peter was staring so hard out the windshield. But the biggest surprise probably came when Sam switched off to drive, still 15 hours from home he expected Peter to pass out until Sam had pulled in to whatever fast food place sounded the least unappealing, but Peter stayed awake doing something on his phone that required his serious ‘PM Productions’ Peter face to be on. And when he put his phone away Peter seemed happy, or more like pleased with himself, moving his head along slightly to the beat of Queen Carly Rae Jepsen even though he swore he wasn't into the pop that Sam made him listen to.

Then, when Sam was getting a lot more serious about scoping out somewhere to stop so he could eat but also find someplace where he can check that his legs wouldn’t turn to dust underneath him the next time he tried to stand, Peter told him to pull off at the next rest stop and he'd drive. Sam woke up when the car parked, his head trying to lean against Peter's shoulder across the divide of the car and lolling painfully in its failure. He'd blame the disorientation that came naturally from falling asleep in a car for why it took him so long to figure out what was happening.

"Wha?"

"I, uh, thought we could stay somewhere tonight, instead of, y'know, trying to make the drive in one go again since that was just-"

"The worst?"

Peter laughed, "Yeah, basically. So I was like emailing our Netflix lady while you were driving."

"We have a Netflix lady?" Sam said, still a little sure he was dreaming but then dream Sam was usually too bougie to have them staying in a Marriott.

"Her name is Samya, and she's nice. But they got us a room for the night-"

"So we don't crash on the road and they don't lose their big investment."

"And I thought it would be nice," Peter added. He turned away from Sam, not that the car let him have much room to do it but it was there in the shift of his shoulders, turning just enough that he wasn't angled close enough that Sam's could bump against his on accident anymore, and the way his eyes looked off toward the door.

"Dude, it totally will! One last night away from home, just us," Sam felt like he was placating, weird since he couldn't figure out what on earth Peter could have heard in his joke that would have made him so upset all of a sudden. "It'll be nice to spend the night in an actual bed instead of trading shifts in the backseat of this thing."

Peter's smile was back, small but infectious. That barely there uptick of his lips had to be magnified a hundred times on Sam's face 'cause he felt like his grin was about to split his whole face in half.

"Maybe you won't snore so bad if you're sleeping in a real bed." Peter added.

"Oh, low blow, Maldonado. Like I haven't spent a billion years listening to your lungs fucking whistle while I'm trying to sleep."

"I have asthma, you just never learned how to breathe through your nose."

Sam laughed, and maybe it was just how late it had gotten or the loopy kind of tired that only comes from spending too much time sitting still in a car, but in the orangey glow of the parking lot lamps Sam was almost crushed by a wave of affection for his best friend. It was another realization all its own. He was in love with his best friend, sure, he'd realized that weeks ago lying on a picnic table wondering just how no one else had realized how amazing Peter fucking Maldonado was. But now he was all the more sure, he was in love with his best friend, maybe he always had been. But this wasn't like any crush he had had before, built more off of an overactive imagination and a desire for what he'd seen on TV. This was Peter. This was a constant, shifting, changing, but always there feeling. He knew Peter, he knew that no one on this planet --- except maybe his sisters on a bad day --- could make him more frustrated, more upset, than Peter but no one had ever really made him as happy either. They worked together, they grew together, and even on days when Sam was more angry with Peter than he'd ever been with anyone in his life the only person he wanted to talk about it with was Peter.

This was deep. Like looking over a clear lake, even Sam hadn't known for sure how deep the water was.

"You are such a dick," he said, in his head it sounded like a confession. "Let's just get inside before I decide you should sleep in the car tonight."

It was like a last hurrah. One last night, in an actual room with an actual bed, that was just the two of them. No cameras to act professional for, no friends watching that they have to act normal for, no anyone. Just Peter and Sam spending one last night flopped across the same bed, a queen this time because their camera equipment couldn't just stay in the car and where else was there to put it but the other bed, watching bad made for TV movies and showing each other stupid memes.

It was good. It was perfect. Close to perfect, anyway. There were times when Peter's eyes crinkled at the corners right before he showed Sam a video that Sam had just listened to him watch, but no sure he'd mute the TV sure it's only like a minute whatever; but Peter was so excited to show him this stupid thing and his smile was in his eyes even while he was trying to keep a stupid serious face so Sam could be surprised when it gets funny. And he just wanted to kiss him. He wanted to tilt his head up and plant a feather light kiss to the face that was leaning so close to his while they watched this dumb video, that wasn't even that funny but Peter liked it and Sam loved Peter.

But all good things must come to an end and the best nights always seemed to have fewer hours in them.

Sam didn't remember falling asleep but he woke up all the same. Peter's alarm was that horrible ‘the world is ending’ nuclear reactor sound and it still took a couple rounds before it actually broke through. Sam woke up with that first shout, and the sound track wasn't ideal but Sam felt warm and safe. By the second time it screamed Sam was awake enough to realize it's because he's the little spoon, and Peter's arms were wrapped tight around his middle and his face tucked down so his nose was pressing against the top of Sam's spine.

He should have untangled himself. He should have thrown Peter's phone against the wall to get it to finally shut up. He should have done something.

But how was this any different than how they woke up yesterday.

No, seriously how? It was like the universe was out to get Sam and his good nights of sleep specifically. First Ming and now Peter's phone, it's like he was cursed.

He stayed still. He could fall asleep again, if it weren't for the noise.

Peter woke up. Sam knew because he tried to hide from the emotionally scarring noise of his own phone alarm. If it were any other day Sam would be mad, but now when Peter tried to hide he was just tucking himself further into Sam, his forehead resting against the top of Sam's back.

But all good things must come to an end, and Sam's a little worried they might wake up their neighbors.

"Pete, babe, it's not Defcon 5 you gotta turn that shit off before someone complains."

A single arm snaked out from around Sam to reach behind them. It left a cold spot in its wake that lasted only as long as it took Peter's other arm to pull Sam further into him.

"Why is it so fucking early?" Peter asked. The rare swear made Sam smile.

"Because we have to drive another ten hours and someone told their mom they'd be home in time for a celebratory dinner."

He groaned and tried once again to use Sam as a shield between him and the unfortunate hour.

"I know, it was pretty stupid. That's why I said I wouldn't get home until late. If you don't set an arrival time then you can't ever be late."

"Life hack." Peter mumbled.

"If you get up I'll use the Netflix money my Mom let me keep and I'll but you coffee."

"Sammy, I love you."

Then Peter's second alarm goes off. Big mood.

Sam made it like three minutes without thinking about what Peter said. Then like all good whatever generation he was supposed to be in now he ignores it and dissociates for like a solid three hours. Then Peter drove and Sam's brain decided it was probably just better to fall asleep.

The next thing he knew he was sitting in Peter's driveway, holding Peter's hand, and Ms. Maldonado was standing there waving at them both. Sam managed to get all the way back to Oceanside without thinking about how Peter told him he loved him and like what the fuck did he even mean by that?

Sam was spiraling in the Maldonado drive way, holding Peter's hand, and Ms. Maldonado was standing by the car looking at the both of them with her don't think I don't know what's been going on face and asking if they needed help carrying anything in.

And Peter said he loved him. What the fuck did he even mean by that?

Sam joined them for dinner because Ms. Maldonado could cook. And so could her son, and Sam was really going to miss eating with Peter every night. By the time they sat down and started Sam had come up with no fewer than six ways Peter could have meant that.

  1. I love you as a friend
  2. I love you as a person who is about to give me the caffeine I so desperately need
  3. I love coffee and I guess also you by extension person driving me to Starbucks
  4. I love you but in that like hyperbolic way that people say when you do something nice for them
  5. I don't really love you, it's just a figure of speech, Sam, I thought you were the one that was supposed to be good at this sort of thing
  6. You're like a brother to me, Sam sure I guess I love you
  7. Sure Sam, I love you but like no homo



Make that seven. Sam wasn't sure if that last one worked since they were both definitely not straight. Did that make it better or worse?

Two bros chilling at the dinner table, two feet apart and one of them is definitely bi and in love with the other one.

And now Ms. Maldonado was looking at him with her concerned mom face, Sam wasn't sure if he'd said anything for the last twenty minutes or not. Maybe he'd said all of that out loud, that would only be a little bit life ruining.

"Sam, sweetie, are you okay? You've been awfully quiet."

"Yeah, dude, I set you up for like three puns and you didn't even notice," Peter joked. His foot connected softly with Sam's under the table, and Sam knew,  _ knew _ , that Peter wanted Sam to look up at him but it was so much safer to just keep staring down at the rice on his plate. The rice on his plate hadn't known him since he was in the fourth grade and was still figuring out how to lie convincingly. The rice didn't know how he bites his lower lip when he's trying to bullshit someone or the way the back of his neck got pink right at the edge of his hairline.

"I think I'm just tired. The drive didn't get any shorter on the way back, y'know." Sam said.

"Well you're always welcome to stay here tonight, get some rest."

"Thanks for the offer, Ms. Maldonado," I would love to. There is nothing I would like more than to spend one last night in a slightly too small bed where I will hopefully get to cuddle with your son. "But I think, I'm gonna head home and maybe sleep in my own bed tonight."

"I'm sure your parents will be happy to see you. Peter can take you home, right?"

"Yeah, of course."

Did Peter sound upset? Sam couldn't tell if Peter sounded upset. But why would he be? Sam was just going home. Maybe Sam should have done what Gabi told him to do two weeks ago and just told Peter he liked him. At least then he would know what was happening. It might have even been easier in the safety of their Washington isolation. Now that they were home, everything was different. Sam felt different.

It was like they crossed over from Narnia or something and now they were back in the real world with its real consequences, and Sam loved Peter. Like he really,  _ really _ did. But that might mean different things here, in the real world at their real school with the real people who knew them and had their lives put on display by them even if that was two years ago.

"Thanks, dude."

Peter drove him home, that five minute drive horrifically long in the silence of the car. (Peter didn't hold his hand.) And Sam couldn't find anything to say that would even remotely be appropriate to break the silence. Sam never cared if something he was about to say was appropriate; but he cared about Peter and he cared that Peter was mad at him for some reason.

Things only got worse from there.

Sure, Sam's mom and dad were like super happy he's home and Laura was already complaining about something he'd done which meant she's happy he's home too. But then one of them will say something to him. Like Laura, she asked what it was like living like a rich person and Sam turned to Peter; cause Peter had this story that really just got to the heart of it. That's what Peter was good at, he got tongue tied when they were interviewing literally anyone with any kind of authority, but he knew how to cut through the bullshit to the real meat of it.

Peter wasn't there to answer, obviously. Sam  _ knew _ Peter went home after he dropped Sam off. He didn't even say hi to anybody, even though Sam's Mom loved Peter, which was so weird even when they were fighting Peter always said hi to Sam's Mom. Didn't stop Sam from feeling a little disoriented that Peter wasn't sitting on the couch beside him.

The story really wasn't as good when Sam told it. It was something about the way Peter pronounced horchata.

Sam didn't get any sleep that night. His bed was too cold and too big for just him all of a sudden. He woke up in the middle of the night reaching out for something that wasn't there.

The problem was Peter.

The problem was Sam.

The problem was that Sam was pretty gone for Peter. 

He had skipped through ten stages of appropriate relationship boundaries and was effectively lost about what was even a remotely appropriate solution. Up til now Sam hadn't even really made it past the talking stage and now Sam was sitting in math daydreaming about using some of their Netflix money to get apartment together.

They were teenagers. Sam didn't even know where he was going to college officially yet. Peter hadn't even kissed him yet. Or the other way around, Sam kissing Peter. Sam really wasn't picky how that part happened, he just kinda wished it would.

That was the other problem.

Sam had to ride the bus to school, and not even because all his rides to school were dead. Because Peter said he had to be there early to talk to Mr. Baxter about some editing thing, it was too obvious a lie for Sam to even want to call him on it.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt. Sam didn't expect things to go south so quickly when they got back. He figured Peter would at least slowly ease into the we got so unusually close because of the cold and the loneliness, okay. Something that wasn't quite an ‘I like you but no homo’ and a lot more like ‘of course I like you, but only as a friend or maybe as something more but only in a very specific situation where there wasn't anyone else around.’

He just had a lot of emotions to work through. Like how he wanted to skip straight back to domesticity with his best friend and that might actually be kind of unhealthy. Was it any different than wanting to room with him in some tiny ass dorm, really? He had friends right now thinking about where they were going to live when they went to school in a couple months. What was the difference really if Sam wanted to do that same kind of thing with Peter who he also wanted to kinda sorta date a little bit?

"What do you think, Sam?"

Emily and Madison were both looking at him expectantly. Sitting across from him they had opposite eyebrows quirked like a two headed hydra and Sam might just be desert. Ming was looking down at his plate which meant Sam was really in trouble.

"No, yeah, for sure." The hydra smiled, that wasn't the right answer. "Yeah, no?" The oh trailed up at the end in a question.

"Told you he wasn't listening." Emily said.

"I asked where Peter was." Madison said.

"That's not even a what do I think question. I was set up to fail." Sam complained.

"Yeah but when you didn't answer, we asked if you were even listening; and you clearly weren't." Emily said.

"Why would I even know where Peter is anyway?"

"Because he's your..."

"Friend." Madison finished, the look she sent Emily was significant as that short pause between the end of the thought. A word was supposed to go there, but it was one that neither one of them was sure was right; and like all good gossip no one wanted to be the first one to tell the person it was about that they'd heard something.

"He's probably editing or something, I don't know."

"Not like it's such a weird question to ask when you two were attached at the hip until yesterday." Ming said, chiming into the conversation.

"Yeah, well," Sam doesn't really have an answer for that just that middle child desire to have the last word.

Emily got it. Queen of WLW/MLM solidarity. "Did you hear who Pat was taking to prom?" she asked, a change in subject so obvious it would have made Peter mad --- and not just because she was changing the subject to Pat  Micklewaite .

Sam drifted back into his own head again.

When Sam got home, thirty minutes later than he should have thanks to the bus he had to ride, he was exhausted. 

The thing he missed most about Bellevue was probably --- the way Peter would look at him while they were investigating, like this was the only thing he wanted to do with the rest of his life: go on adventures and solve mysteries with Sam by his side --- the routine. The week was for the investigation and on the weekend they would catch up on whatever homework had been sent their way.

Now he actually had to go to class, and sure Sam only had two real classes during the day, but now he had to go there every day.

Peter was avoiding him.

They had all the same classes, except for Sam's math class, and they were really the only two in the co-op/senior project block at the end of the day. Which made it a lot more obvious that Peter was trying not to be in the same room as him.

Which was just (absolutely not at all) fine with Sam.

He wasn't lying when he said he thought Peter was editing. Sure it was something he normally helped with, but two could play at the avoiding game, and if Peter didn't want his help then Sam could spend all day in the library trying to find research and citations they could use for the doc. Peter was hoping they could bring a couple of experts and Sam had started a list of people who were supposed to be experts in the field and was wasting time trying to figure out if they were the kind of people who would agree to be in a couple of eighteen year old's documentary about shit crime.

Normally he would do this with Peter, so they could talk about Peter's artistic vision and who he really wanted to use where but... But, nothing, Sam guessed. Whatever was going on Peter would get over.

That was what Sam kept telling himself while he stared up at his bedroom ceiling.

He had been scrolling through his twitter feed, but he'd tried to show a person who wasn't there three different memes and then he'd gotten mad at himself that he couldn't remember that he was by himself right now.

So he called Gabi.

"Sup, kiddo?"

"I can call back if you're trying to get laid," Sam said. He was only kiddo if she had a date over or if she was still getting over being mad at him. It was a habit she'd picked up from his older sister, Kayla, when she was mad at one of them like two years made such a difference in age.

"I'm leaving class, and you're being a dick so what's wrong?"

"Does that mean you've got a hot TA."

"Samuel," Gabi warned. "Quit lashing out, did something happen with Peter?"

"Why did something have to happen with Peter to call you?"

"Because Laura already texted me and Kayla to tell us you've been weird and Peter didn't come inside after he dropped you off at home."

"You all have a group text?"

"And right now it's called 'Why are all boys stupid'."

"Peter isn't talking to me."

"And you've tried talking to him? Because the last time someone wasn't talking to you you'd had an argument and then wouldn't text them so they could cool off  and then you just never spoke again."

"I mean, I haven't not not texted him. It's just weird."

"Because you told him you liked him?"

"Yeah... I definitely did that."

"Sam!"

"It just never came up."

"Yeah, I'm calling such bullshit on that, kiddo. How datey did the two of you get out there because you were both in love with each other and didn't want to talk about it?"

"I don't know," Sam trailed off.

"So very. He's probably confused, Sam. What did you do when you got back?"

"Nothing!" Gabi hummed at the other end of the line, with that knowing way she had. "I don't know what you wanted me to do."

"I think I told you what I thought you should do, Sam. I think I even said hey Sam remember how Peter spent 6 minutes detailing how he thought it was possible that you liked someone who wasn't him so much that you would commit a felony to get prom cancelled. And you didn't listen to me, for some reason even though all the evidence points to me being wise beyond my years and knowing so much more than you?"

"Doesn't sound familiar."

"Sam Ecklund if I find out that you haven't talked to Peter by the end of this week I am going to-"

"What? Tell him for me?"

"Drive home and harass you in person. Because I wouldn't out you like that without your consent, but I will bug the shit out of you."

"I'll tell him," Sam said. Crossing his fingers out of a deeply ingrained sibling instinct even though Gabi couldn't even see him.

"Good, now I gotta go. There's this mixer thing later tonight and my hot TA is going to be there."

"I knew there was a hot TA!"

"There's always a hot TA. Talk to Peter or I'm going to kick your ass, next time I get home. Love you, kiddo."

"Bye, Gabs."

Sam stayed on the line until he heard the weird beep of Gabi's line going down. Then he just let go of his phone and let it fall of his shoulder and slide down to his bedspread. Gabi maybe had a point. 

But on the other hand, she was just as much of a disaster romantically as Sam was.

On the third hand Sam really hated it when he wasn't talking to Peter, and Gabi only said he should speak to him. Sam was the one who said anything about telling anyone anything.

Maybe he should do pre-law instead of theatre in college, that was a nice loop hole he just found himself.

Sam slapped around at his bed for a couple minutes until he managed to reach into the wormhole that his phone had fallen into. His and Peter's text chain was already open when he pulled up his messenger app, and Sam sent his olive branch.

_ you aren't going to fucking believe who  _ _ micklewaite _ _ is taking to prom _

Things were fine after that.

Really.

Peter was talking to him again. Laura wasn't giving him that look over dinner and hopefully when they'd escaped the reaches of the dinner table phone ban, she'd text Gabi and Kayla something that will get Gabi off his back. Everything was looking good, normal even.

Sam was fine with normal.

Normal meant never pushing the idea of unrequited love and misunderstandings about platonic displays of affection.

It was great.

Just great. That was why Sam was staring at his ceiling again at one in the morning letting his brain chase itself in circles and hoping he'd fall asleep sometime before his alarm goes off for school.

He really hadn't slept well since that night at the hotel. Which he'd really trying not to think about. 

It sounded stupid and codependent. He shared a bed with Peter, out of convenience, for like six weeks and now he couldn't sleep by himself. And yeah, Kayla said she had trouble sleeping by herself when her boyfriend was out of town after she moved in with him, but they lived together for like a whole year it wasn't really the same thing.

But on the other hand...

Sam was out of bed, ready to call Peter and warn him that he was walking over to his house, when he opened his front door and saw Peter standing there with his phone pressed to his ear. Sam's phone started to buzz in his hand, but he was too busy appreciating the way Peter's glasses are pushed just a little bit crooked by his own phone.

They stood there looking at each other stunned for a second before Sam could hear his own voicemail message start to play through Peter's phone and they both snapped out of it.

"Uh, hey, I uh-" Peter started, he was nervous Sam registered that in the very back of his mind while the rest of his brain still tried to figure out if this was real or just very pleasant wish fulfillment. "We have that English test tomorrow, and I- uh- I-"

"I haven't been sleeping well either."

"Good, I mean, not good, but um... It's an important test."

"Like a huge chunk of our grade, shit, get in here before you wake up my parents."

Peter smiled gratefully at him as Sam grabbed his hand and pulls him inside. They're both asleep within minutes of laying down together, Sam didn't even care when he woke up twenty minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off to the sound of a giggling eighth grader who definitely just sent a picture of him tucked snuggly into Peter's chest to hopefully only Gabi and Kayla. It was still the best night sleep he'd had in days.

After their big English test, Sam didn't see Peter for a couple hours. Sam had his math class, and he was spending the first hour of their senior project block on a Skype call with a linguist who responded positively about potentially letting him and Peter interview her for Vandal. Peter was supposed to meet up with him so they could get lunch, but when Sam's stomach started rumbling and Peter didn't show Sam headed to the cafeteria without him. It wasn’t that weird for Peter to get so wrapped up in editing that he forgot about lunch entirely.

Conversation stopped entirely when he went to join his usual lunch table. Emily looked guilty and Madison was trying not to look the same. Always a great sign.

"If you were trying to keep a secret you're doing a bad job, so you might as well tell me before I have to use my Vandal skills to figure out what's going on."

And if that didn't really change the mood. Emily was trying too hard to make eye contact and Randall just looked like he wanted to drown in his pity for Sam. Now that just wouldn't do.

"Okay seriously," Sam sat down so the teachers monitoring lunch would stop looking at him too, "what the fuck is going on."

Madison was the only person who has the decency to take the kind of pity on him that Sam actually cared about. "Did you not hear?"

"Let's assume that I haven't," Sam said, the tension around their table was not at all enjoyable.

"Someone asked Peter to prom..."

That- Sam hadn't expected that. He didn't know why, hadn't he just thought about how unappreciated Peter was and how surprised he was that this hadn't already happened? It just- It still wasn't supposed to happen. He was going to go stag to prom with Peter which meant they would really be going together. That had always been the plan. Sam had always thought it had been the plan, they hadn't said it out loud but- Should they have said it out loud, would that have suddenly changed what happened.

"Oh," Sam said. How long had he been sitting there with his mouth open? "Who asked him?"

Emily and Madison watched him with matching looks of appraisal. Madison answered, "Josh, the one that plays in the marching band not the hot soccer one."

"Oh, okay." Sam said. 

What else was there to say, Peter got asked to prom. Of course Peter got asked to prom. Peter was great, who wouldn't want to go to prom with Peter. Sam didn't know who the fuck this guy was or why he would ask Peter when he didn't think they had ever even talked, but like whatever shoot your shot.

Sam stood up, he suddenly wasn't feeling so hungry. "I've got to talk to another possible source, I'll talk to you later."

The Peter with his impeccable fucking timing, walked up. He was smiling apologetically at Sam as he walked through the connecting doors.

He couldn't do it. Sam couldn't sit there at lunch while everyone at their table was looking at him, feeling bad for him because everyone in the world had figured out that Sam was carrying a torch for Peter so bright it could probably be seen from space. He left his lunch tray sitting on the table and walked away, turning his back to Peter and walking out the side doors.

The theater auditorium wasn't far from the cafeteria. It was probably too obvious a place to hide, but ever after four years of Sam doing drama Peter didn't feel comfortable barging into the backstage area. It made it the only place in school that Sam could really hide from Peter, just until he could put his game face on again.

He just needed to get the bad feelings out, then he'd be fine. Normally he would call Gabi to do that, or go home and share a pint of ice cream with Laura. But Sam had to get his life together before the bell rings and he had to ride home with Peter. If he called Gabi she'd know he lied about being honest with Peter which pretty much ended his list of usual go to's.

He got a notification. Your post has been liked by aint_no_lyman.

Sam texted Chloe.

_ Hey can you talk? _

**Sure, it's my free period**

Sam called her immediately.

"Hey!" She answered warmly. "You guys need something for the doc?"

"Uh, actually it's just me."

"Oh," Chloe was surprised but no less happy to be talking to him, that was something that Sam had really liked about Chloe, even when he thought she might have conspired with Kevin for a little while. "What's up, Sam?"

"I'm- Shit, maybe I-"

"Are you okay?"

It's a stupid question, Sam had always hated that question. You never asked someone if they were okay unless you knew they were definitely not okay, so at that point why even bother asking.

"No, sorry. I don't even know why I called, I- Some guy asked Peter to prom."

"Oh, Sam I'm sorry. I didn't realize you all had broken up."

"We haven't, we aren't even together." Why did everyone keep assuming that. "That's why it's so stupid and he doesn't know I know, and I have no reason to be upset at all." Sam was slumped in another corner, his knees pulled up to his chest a mirror of his position when he called Gabi all those weeks ago.

"Sam, you should probably talk to Peter about this. Like, I'm touched that you thought I could help and I'm here if you want to keep venting, but I think you already know why you're upset."

"He didn't even tell me, not that it matters; or that he had to. But I'm his best friend, y'know, that's the kind of thing you tell a best friend about, right?"

"I think that's something he would have to tell you, Sam. But I don't think that's the only reason you're upset. I'm not going to pry 'cause really I don't think it's any of my business, but I don't think you'll really feel better unless you talk to Peter."

"You're probably right. Thanks for being more emotionally mature than me."

Chloe laughed, "Yeah, well, thanks for spending six weeks doing an in depth investigation for my friend."

"Guess that makes us even."

Chloe's laugh was softer that time, tempered by a smile if Sam were guessing, "Go talk to Peter, and let me know how it goes. It's been lonely at the house without you guys and all your string."

Sam said his goodbyes, and stood up from his corner, not giving himself any time to prepare or he'd chicken out of leaving the dressing room until after the bell rang. He pushed the door open in time to see Peter scramble up from the floor. Back still pressed to the wall across from where Sam is standing, frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

"Hey, uh," Peter started, the nervous stammer heavy in his voice. He swallowed it back and Sam watched him try again, "Are you okay? You hate that question, sorry. You left really fast, what's up?"

Peter wore earnest the way that Sam had really only see cartoon characters in Disney movies wear it before, shoulders rolled forward and his eyes on Sam without demanding too much. He cared. That was his thing, behind two layers of awkward and an oversized hoodie was a mushy Maldonado center that cared so much about the people that mattered to him. It was really too much for Sam to come from freaking out at Chloe to meeting that head on.

"Did Josh ask you to prom?" Sam blurted.

Peter flinched back, his shoulders and then the back of his head making contact with the painted cement walls. "What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"I just want to know if it's true."

"Yeah, I guess, dude. But I don't know why that matters?"

"I don't know, Peter," Sam sounded accusatory, he didn't want to be accusing Peter his emotions were to confused, too raw, to be attributed correctly. It all came out in a ball of hurt feelings. "Maybe because I heard from our lunch table that some guy we barely even know asked you to prom instead of hearing it from you."

"Why are you being such a dick about this? He's a nice guy-"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Maybe this is why I hadn't told you, Sam. You can be such an ass sometimes." If Sam were thinking about more than just himself or how this wasn't how this was supposed to go, he would have noticed in the set of his shoulders that Peter wasn't mad, he was upset.

But Sam wasn't. He was thinking a thousand other things, like how long would he have to stop talking to Peter before this blew over. Would prom reignite this fight again if it did? Would Sam be able to go to prom with Peter if he was taking Josh or would that be too much. How long would he have to ghost Peter before some of the awful upset heartsick feelings in his chest went away.

They knew each other well and this wasn't the first time they'd fought like this. So it only took a look for them to both stalk off to their own corners of the school.

Sam rode the bus home, again.

The goal was to spend another evening staring up at the ceiling and questioning every life choice that he had made to get him to this point in his life. But like so many of Sam's goals --- like tell Peter he liked him or calmly ask Peter about prom or finish that scholarship paperwork that had been sitting on his desk for a month --- things didn't work out like he had hoped they would.

Emily was blowing up his phone and had been since about fifteen minutes after he stalked away from his fight with Peter. He hadn't heard anything from Madison, but he wasn't entirely surprised to see that the battle lines had been drawn.

He'd been ignoring her pretty well so far, but like with most things Sam's curiosity and impulse control got the better of him. He scrolled through the unread messages passing the usual things like:

**you okay**

**did you really say that**

**answer idiot**

**i honestly cant believe**

Before finally finding the end.

**text me back if you want to talk**

Sam didn't want to talk, at all. But Peter had obviously gone back to their lunch table and told them something. More than that, Sam kept replaying their argument in his head over and over and over again and while Peter had admitted he'd been asked Sam had let his emotions get the better of him before he actually found out if Peter had said he'd go.

_ is he going with josh _

Emily read it almost immediately and the dot dot dots started up with more intensity than he was pretty sure they usually did.

**???**

**thats what you want to know**

**are you serious**

Sam didn't bother to respond, the dots were still going anyway.

**no he isnt**

He didn't know three words could sound so annoyed with him. Well no, he did but usually it was Peter or someone who was that mad at him. But now that Emily had answered Sam couldn't stop his next question.

_ did he say why _

**no**

**but you should know**

**but ill give you a hint since you two are struggling so hard**

**i heard around school that he said he was already going with someone else**

Sam couldn't help but feel a little devastated when he read that. Going with someone else meant that someone had asked him and Peter hadn't felt like he could tell Sam. He wasn't going to pretend like this was the biggest event of their teen years, not when they'd spent their summer going to launch parties and promo events for Vandal. But it was a big milestone, one that he thought they'd go to together or at least in the same group. He thought Peter would at least- Emily texted him again interrupting his spiral into an anxiety attack with two words.

**hint hint**

_ i should talk to him _

**you should say youre sorry for being an ass, yeah**

_ but he said he was going with..? _

**someone**

_ and that someone is _

**getting less and less likely to go with him the longer he doesnt apologize**

Sam had helped to solve, or at least mostly solve, two felony vandalism cases in the last three years. He had been asked by someone to help solve a murder. But somehow solving this petty high school mystery was the most satisfying solve that Sam had felt.

Peter wanted to go to prom with him. Maybe as a friend. Maybe as something more.

Sam needed a really good apology, and he had the perfect idea.

He wasn't as talented an editor as Peter was. Sam really didn't have the same kind of patience to make the careful cuts or to find the perfect pairing of b-roll and suspenseful music, that's why he was just the co-producer and Peter did most of the heavy lifting. But it was impossible to sit in the same room as Peter while he was working on Vandal, and it was rare in the last month that he wasn't, without picking up a thing or two.

So he got started.

And unlike his Peter theory that he edited, Sam actually put some work into this one. Hours passed by without Sam really noticing. It wasn't Netflix quality or anything, but it also wasn't for them. By the time he got it finished it was in the late early hours of the morning where it was technically tomorrow but it still got called today because sleep hadn't come yet. That time of night where exhaustion blends the lines of linear time and makes bad decisions a lot easier to justify.

Sam hoped this was just a risky decision and not an outright stupid one.

But he'd been staring at his laptop screen for hours and it had become impossible to tell.

He considered asking Laura, willing to embarrass himself in front of his younger sister for the sake of a second opinion, but the house had gone quiet around him.

Like with all the bad decisions that Sam had made in the last four years of his life, he said fuck it and texted Peter.

_ [LINK] _ _  
_ _ Password: SamIsASorryIdiot _

It's late and Sam didn't expect a response. But Peter was just as petty as Sam could be and had had him on read all day, leaving him with the singular pleasure of knowing that Peter saw it immediately after it sent.

His regret was just as immediate and twice as powerful. Sure this was something he needed to do, but it wasn't like he expected Peter to see it until the morning.

Sam clicked the link that he just sent Peter, letting it take him to his own Vimeo account and to the private video that he'd spent his night editing. Nothing like absolute, soul numbing terror to really let him look at his project with new eyes.

The video was done in true Vandal style. Minimal, clean, black background while Sam narrated in a quiet voice that hadn't seemed as shaky when he was editing but he could hear the nerves now that he's listening. It's a short video, but now as the text fades in 'The Case for Sam Ecklund being an Idiot' the five minute video seems like an eternity.

It's one part apology. 'Wouldn't let his best friend get five words in when he was trying to explain a simple situation.'

One part confession. 'Has basically been in love with Peter Maldonado for the last four weeks.' With the double y heyy he'd accidentally on purpose sent the last time he had a screenshotted tweet he just had to show Peter

And one part promposal, 'Really wants to know if Peter will go to prom with him?'

All his eggs were in one basket with this one, and it was stupidly earnest. He didn't even make a stupid joke about Peter's Sam/Gabi theory, even if it really was tempting to add that ‘or else I'll spray paint dicks all over the school and get prom cancelled for real this time.’

Sam had kinda thought the worst part was over once he had hit that send button. It only took about five seconds to realize that the worst part was really watching the dot dot dots as Peter typed whatever the fuck he was thinking. His refusal to draft in the notes app like Sam had taught him would be endearing if Sam couldn't feel his soul literally slipping out of him with every second those dots did their little dance on the screen.

Then finally:  **I'm coming over**

Sam hoped that was a good thing. His anxiety had his heart beating wildly in his chest, thrashing erratically like an animal trying to get out of a cage, with every thump trying to convince him that this was about to be not just a bad thing but a life ruining-ly bad thing.

But he'd almost failed Spanish investigating dicks, he'd asked an adult he barely knew if they'd eaten shit, he'd broken into a teacher's lounge because of a hunch. Gabi probably knew what she was talking about when it came to Sam's impulse control. So despite Sam's own tell-tale heart trying to get him to lock himself in his room and pretend he wasn't such an idiot, he went outside to wait for Peter so he could finally get some closure.

He was sitting on the step in front of his front door when Peter pulled up, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them in a fun mirror of his posture during every too deep conversation he'd had about Peter since he realized he maybe had a thing for him. If this were a movie and not Sam's actual life, this would be one of those parallels that nerds like Peter would point out.

Sam was just fucking cold. No fun ironies, just a California kid sitting outside in short sleeves in the middle of January.

Peter didn't say anything when he first walked up, but that could be because he was too busy throwing things in Sam's face. Literally and hopefully only that, Sam didn't really need anything metaphorically thrown in his face tonight no matter how prepared he was for it. It was the dark grey hoodie that Peter keeps in his car that just smacked Sam in the face. It smelled like Peter, normally comforting but even as Sam pulled it on over his head he could already feel it making this conversation harder for him to have.

"You're an idiot."

Now the metaphorical things were being thrown in his face. Sam would normally say at least he's warm while he sat outside his house and let Peter call him names, but he was being called an idiot while staring up at Peter, whose face was mysteriously and distressingly emotionless and whose fists were shoved deep into the pockets of his own jacket, all while Sam was enveloped in the distinctly Peter smell of his hoodie.

It's atmospherically difficult to handle. Like the worst imaginable 4D movie.

Before Sam could make the joke, any joke, just something to get the weight off of his tongue, Peter stopped him. "Shut up, dude, okay for- You got your thing let me get out what I need to say okay?"

Sam nodded meekly, but everything looked a little meek when looking up at the person doing the talking.

"You drive me crazy, honestly." This wasn't where Sam expected things to go, was it too late to abort this mission. Peter looked exasperated, driven crazy, at the end of his rope the way Sam hadn't seen him since he was trying to edit together the finale of season 1. "Like not to be all Katy Perry about it but I don't know what to do with the hot and cold, Sam.

"We're in Washington and you're always smiling at me and touching me, like more than normal which I recently noticed is already a lot, and then you're holding my hand and the nicknames. But then, but then we come back home and you practically run from my house and you barely talk to me and just when things start to feel like they're getting back to normal and you're talking to me again you freak the fuck out." Sam couldn't help but shrink back, hiding in the hoodie that's too big for either one of them and letting the soft feeling of well worn cotton comfort him. Peter didn't swear, not much, so when he did he meant it and right now Sam thinks he'd probably never meant it more.

"And now," Peter continued, he'd worked himself into a monologue now, and this wasn't like the calm reflective ones he spent so much time composing for Vandal. This was erratic and personal. Tone wildly shifting from word to word as his emotions rolled, but his voice never raised above his normal speaking voice so they didn't wake up the rest of Sam's house. "Now, I'm at home trying to figure out what the hell I did that could have started any of this and I get a video from you. And- And- We don't do apologies, Sam so I'm not really sure where to go."

His final words hung in the air like a death sentence, full of misfortune and disappointment.

"Can I say something?" Sam asked.

Peter smiled like he couldn't help himself. "I'm surprised you haven't already, to be honest."

"Where do you want this to go?"

It was all Sam could do to prepare himself for the inevitable. He'd been up all night, so at least when he told his Mom he was sick he would look like shit too. Then he could at least spend the day marinating in his heart break before he would have to go back to school and pretend like everything was normal.

"Honestly? Until we got back and until you sent this, I would have said we were already dating." Peter was looking at his shoes while he talked now. Sam's question had taken the fight out of him apparently, he embarrassed so easily for someone who was so willing to push past all that and do stupid shit to help people. But he couldn't push past it now.

Sam didn't care. He had his arms wrapped even tighter around himself now and it might have been the only thing keeping him calm and pinned to the ground. It was like a hug, a hug with the smell of the cologne that Peter only wears when they were doing their close up interviews and he wanted to see more professional in his hoodie and jeans.

"Yeah?" he asked, because anything else would be giving something away.

"Yeah," Peter cut a hesitant glance over at Sam, smiling shyly when he noticed what had to be an absolutely idiotic grin on Sam's face, "I mean I cooked for you, dude. I thought I was being pretty obvious."

"I called you babe."

"You called me bae." Peter was smirking now, confirmation had become confidence and it'd all gone to his head.

"I hesitated on the word, it so doesn't count."

"Whatever you say, dude."

"Maybe dude can be our always," Sam joked, but it was hard to not feel serious when he was looking up at Peter and Peter was looking back at him with everything clicking into place.

"So what does this mean?" Peter asked.

That was the question of the hour, or maybe more like the question of the month for Sam. Where did they go from here?

"That we need to get better at having mature adult conversation?"

"Sam, be serious."

"Where do you want us to go? You watched the video, Pete, I-" he choked on the word, it's one thing to say it in voice over or to Gabi but another to say it right now, out loud to Peter, "I like you, a  _ lot _ . I want to take this as far as you want us to go, if that means pretending this never happened and going back to being friends then that's what we do."

"And if I like you too, like a lot?" Peter was trying to sound confident and nonchalant, Sam could tell, but something warm and bubbly filled Sam's chest with how badly he missed the mark and landed closer to timid and hopeful.

Sam grinned, Peter could probably see it in his eyes, assuming the collar of the hoodie hid it at all. "Then I guess there's only one thing to do. Peter Maldonado, will you go to prom with me, for real, as a date?"

"It sounded better in the video."

"Dude!"

Peter laughed, "Yes, I'll go to prom with you, for real, as a date."

That was all it took to break Sam's infamously small self-control. He needed to be touching Peter. Sam exploded up from the ground, collision course set directly at Peter who caught him and managed to keep them both upright. They wobbled into a tight hug, Sam tucking his head and more specifically his cold nose right into the warmth of Peter's neck.

"I'm gonna tell Gabi how bad your promposal was," Peter said, killing the mood the way only a teenage boy could.

"What!"

"After the shit you gave her about Brandon's? I'm totally gonna tell her."

"Brandon pushed her into a pool and gave her a towel, he's a total douche. I made you a heartfelt confession video in the style of our award nominated docu-series, and I'm charming."

"You pushed me into an emotional pool and gave me a towel in video form, they're metaphorically similar."

"Metaphorically similar, fuck off, if you're so good at picking out rhetorical devices I guess you don't need my help with the Wuthering Heights essay anymore."

"Sammy, can I stay the night," he said it like 'I was just kidding, I love you.'

"Obviously." It sounded like 'I love you too.'

Sam wasn't sure he would be able to sleep once they actually made it up to his room, the giddy rush of confession and the feeling of Peter's arms wrapped around him had sent butterflies racing through his stomach. But the exhaustion of the day started to creep in the way it always did, unavoidable even his heart tried to race at being held by his new boyfriend.

He kinda thought Peter had fallen asleep, his breathing had fallen even and his glasses were in their usual place on Sam's bedside table. "You remember that day Chloe talked you into going to the frozen yogurt place so you could check out the difference between the two cards?" Peter said, definitely not asleep.

"Yeah, you said something weird about yogurt pretending to be ice cream and that you were gonna go talk to Kevin's grandmother again."

"And I did that, but I also kinda called Dylan... About you."

"Oh yeah?"

Sam was close enough that he heard Peter swallow, like this of all things was the conversation he was nervous to have tonight. "I kinda told him that I liked you and that I thought something might be happening up there."

"And what sage advice did Dylan have for you?"

"He, uh, he said, 'Oh, dope, dude,'" Peter's Dylan impression wasn't good at all, Sam had to stifle his giggling in Peter's chest so he would keep going. "He, uh," Peter laughed, "He was like, 'I totally thought you guys were like already a thing, but you get it, Pete.'"

"Why does your Dylan impression sound like he's a character from Bill and Ted?"

"Shut up, he was being supportive."

Sam laughed, "He definitely followed it up with what he and Mac used to do when her parents were gone, didn't he?"

"He might have."

"Well you already know I called Gabi and freaked out, at least Dylan was more helpful."

Peter yawned, "Helpful for Dylan, anyway."

His tired was contagious, "At what point do we have to tell people that they were right and we were idiots." His yawn caught him mid sentence, stretching the last half of his thought out so it was nearly unintelligible.

"Weird how your yawn made your 'I was' sound like 'we were.' But it can wait until the morning."

"Is bae caught me slippin a vintage meme now, has it come back around?"

"I'm asleep, I can't hear your awful plan," Peter said.

Sam laughed, knowing he could probably convince Peter to give in. For now he would just give in to the impulse, now that he could, to snuggle in closer to Peter's chest.

Unsurprisingly, Sam learned he slept better in Peter's arms than he did anywhere else.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://formosusiniquis.tumblr.com/)


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